But she was not alone in her secret. She had never been. She had her siblings.
Being a triplet meant sharing more than a birthday. It meant shared glances across crowded rooms, conversations carried in silence, a closeness that made explanations unnecessary. Where others might have questioned or feared what she could do, Elian and Zara simply accepted it as another part of who she was, like the sound of her laugh or the way she always hummed when thinking.
They had been the first she told willingly. Her siblings had not recoiled. They had listened.
They had asked questions, curiosity shining where others showed fear. They treated her visions not as something broken, but as something extraordinary, something that simplywas. With them, she never had to pretend she saw nothing when memories pressed against her mind. With them, she could speak freely, sharing the strange fragments of lives that brushed against her own.
That bond had made it easier, later, to trust her parents with the truth.
Her mother’s fear had never fully disappeared, but understanding had softened its edges. Her papa, steady and quiet, had listened more than he spoke, his acceptance arriving in small gestures rather than grand declarations. The silence no longer carried shame.
Still, acceptance in the Upperworld had always come with conditions.
Careful, Liora. Be discreet. Do not draw attention.
Magic was something whispered about, regulated, and restrained. Something to be hidden behind ordinary faces and mundane explanations. Power was controlled. Creatures of legend existed only in secrecy or exile. The world demanded normalcy, even from those who could never truly be normal.
Vale Crossing was nothing like that.
Now, standing at the heart of its winding streets, she allowed herself a slow, steady breath. She was surrounded by basilisks.
They moved through the restaurant with quiet authority, towering figures whose upper bodies bore the shape of humans while their lower halves coiled in powerful serpentine tails. Their scales caught the lantern light with subtle iridescence—emerald, obsidian, and burnished gold glinting like living armor. Their eyes, slit-pupiled and ancient, missed nothing.
In the Upperworld, their existence would have been denied outright.
Here, they haggled over produce, argued about prices, and drank brews scented with herbs as if such things were ordinary, because here, they were.
The air itself felt different in Vale Crossing. Thicker with magic. Alive with it. The streets pulsed with energies long suppressed elsewhere, humming beneath the surface of every conversation and every step. Strange creatures passed openly beside her, beings of horn and claw, of shadow and flame, of forms that shifted at the edges of vision. No one stared. No one hid.
No one pretended.
For the first time in years, Liora did not need to hold herself so tightly.
Her guard loosened without her permission. The careful walls her abuela had taught her to build remained in place, but they no longer felt like a prison. Here, power was not a danger to conceal; it was simply a fact of existence.
A small, disbelieving smile touched her lips.
Here, she could exist without apology among monsters and magic and beings the Upperworld refused to acknowledge. She felt something unfamiliar unfurl in her chest, something warm and expansive, something dangerously close to relief.
She could be herself. Far from the rigid order of the Upperworld, in the wild heart of Vale Crossing, where monsters lived openly, and magic flowed freely. She was no longer a girl hiding a dangerous secret. She was simply another soul among many, carrying her power like breath.
“Liora.”
Her brother’s voice came gently, careful not to startle her.
Elian leaned forward across the table, his gaze fixed on her with quiet concern. The lantern light caught in his familiar brown eyes, making them shine with that same steady protectiveness he had carried since childhood. Dark hair fell loosely across his forehead, and ink curled along his forearms in intricate patterns, lines and symbols that shifted subtly when he moved.
“Are you seeing a memory?” he asked softly. He always noticed and knew when something tugged at her mind.
She met his gaze and felt warmth settle in her chest at the familiar sight of him. Of all the strange things in Vale Crossing, her brother remained an anchor.
She shook her head, a small smile touching her lips. “No,” she said quietly. “This time…it’s my memories.”
Understanding softened his expression. “Good, I prefer the ones that belong to you.”
There was a teasing note beneath the words, but concern still threaded through his voice. He leaned back in his chair, though his attention never truly left her, watchful in the way only someone who shared her beginning could be.
She let her gaze drift past him, taking in their surroundings. Being surrounded by basilisks should’ve been unsettling. Instead, it felt strangely comforting.
